


The Dragon

by heckate



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Episode: s06e22 A Friend In Need Part 2, Post-FIN, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Odyssey References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckate/pseuds/heckate
Summary: After the events of Jappa and the series finale, Gabrielle heads to the Land of the Pharaohs where she should be mourning the loss of her soulmate. But she seems to be going mad in her grief, and those around her fear she is losing her mind. Still, Gabrielle is determined to bring her companion back from the other side and will travel far and wide, facing whatever dangers to do it.
Relationships: Gabrielle/Xena
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. The Land of the Pharaohs

**Author's Note:**

> I published this story initially in August of 2018 under the title "A Shadow of Strength" -- but I've since revised it. I don't think I have ever posted the entire story on here, but I will this time around. I've tried to write this story in the style that one might re-tell a Greek myth, and not in the precise voices of the series, to invoke a certain grandness. Still, I do try to stay true to these characters (however broken they may be). Please enjoy!

The Dragon by Heckate  
_Originally posted August 2018, revised 1/19/21_

"Gabrielle," said Xena as she watched her companion sharpen one of her sais, "are you feeling alright? You look unwell."

"I'm fine, Xena," Gabrielle snapped, but then she softened, "I'm sorry. Thank you for your concern. For worrying about me."

"I'll always be here for you, Gabrielle," Xena said. Her warrior senses suddenly kicked in and she looked past Gabrielle at the vast desert, "Do you hear that?"

"Hooves." Gabrielle nodded, "Sounds like a small army. Maybe six or seven men."

Xena smiled, filled with pride at her companion’s skills.

She was right; soon six men on horseback approached, laughing and snarling and belching. They made Gabrielle sick, the pigs.

"Don't worry," Gabrielle said, "You stay here. I can handle this."

"Hey girlie," said one of the men, "why don't you let us have your gold? And maybe a piece of you while you're at it?"

"If you were smart," Gabrielle warned, "you'd shut up and be on your way." She stood before the men, ready to draw her sais at a moment's notice.

"We should leave her be,” another man said, but not out of fear. It seemed out of pity, which made Gabrielle irrationally angry, "Did you see her? She was speaking to the wind. She isn't right in the mind. I'm sure she has nothing to give us, and she would be impossible to sell as a slave, babbling to plants and things."

The first man laughed, "Yes, who were you talking to, little girl? Is it spirits? The sands beneath our feet? Pharaohs of the past, or the Gods?"

Gabrielle's skin was an unhealthy pale even having spent days wandering in the Egyptian sun. Rings hung below bloodshot eyes and she twitched at the man's mockery.

"Shut up!" she said, "Surely you've heard of Xena, the Warrior Princess?"

"I have." said the man, "I have heard that she is dead. You are talking to a ghost, girl."

Giving into her most animalistic instincts, Gabrielle quickly drew her sais, taking down each man with general ease. The men were unused to fighting formidable warriors of Gabrielle's comparatively short stature, and so she had the advantage. After killing four of the men, a savageness in her movements that she could hardly recognize in herself, she turned to the one who had defended her. He seemed shocked at her skill, and Gabrielle was enraged that she still found pity in his eyes.

She hesitated, though, a part of her remembering a time not long ago when she erred on the side of mercy.

Suddenly, white hot pain flashed before her eyes as a blade entered her left shoulder from behind and pierced her down into her chest. She coldly slit the throat of the man in front of her and turned to her attacker, the one who had mocked her so.

"Look at you," he said as she stumbled, "so young but so ill. Travelling alone in this place, too. I cannot help but wonder what happened to make you this way. Is your husband dead?"

Yes, something from deep within Gabrielle's consciousness spoke. Perdicas, of course. Her husband, Perdicas, who had died so shortly after they had wed.

But she knew, somewhere, that it wasn’t Perdicas that she was thinking of.

"Xena," Gabrielle moaned as she choked on the blood building in her throat, "Help me…"

"You can do it, Gabrielle," Xena said, suddenly beside her again, "You have so much strength inside you."

Gabrielle fell to the ground, and the man smiled victoriously. But Gabrielle had fallen on purpose, and as her body was turned away from his gaze she unlatched Xena's chakram from her belt. Once the man approached, readying his sword for the final blow, she tossed the weapon and it lodged itself firmly in his chest. He died instantly.

"Thank you, Xena," Gabrielle breathed, recovering the chakram and investigating the red splatters that coated her face in her reflection on its equally bloodied surface.

"Gabrielle, you need to find shelter and take care of your wound,” Xena said, “You are growing weak."

"What about all the strength inside of me, Xena?" Gabrielle chuckled, a wooziness starting to get to her.

"Gabrielle, I mean it. You need to treat your wound. You are losing too much blood."

"I know you'll take care of me. You always do..." Gabrielle's speech began to slur, "I love you, Xena…"

And there she lay, sprawled in the Egyptian sand, alone and bleeding, a dim white glow showing through the back of her tunic and Death looming before her.


	2. Return to Greece

Gabrielle awoke slowly in a bed that she found rather uncomfortable. She sat up, and winced as a pain bit her shoulder like dogs. She felt weak, and her back felt like fire.

“She’s awake,” announced a male voice from somewhere else in the room.

A man and a woman whose dispositions reminded her almost nauseatingly of her own parents, who though she loved them she felt had coddled her far too much, approached her bed.  _ After all this _ , she thought with resentment,  _ I am back to where I started _ .

“How are you feeling?” The woman asked her, reaching for Gabrielle’s forehead.

With an uncharacteristic coldness, Gabrielle swatted her hand away, “Where’s Xena?”

“Who?” The woman asked.

“Xena, my companion. She was with me.”

“I was on my way to the next village to trade when I found you,” explained the man, “I had thought you were dead until I heard you say that name, ‘Xena.’ You were alone. Except for the bodies of the men that you had killed.” He grimaced, “Scoundrels, they were, robbing us farmers blind. We thank you for getting rid of them.”

“No,” Gabrielle stuttered, panic rising in her chest, “Xena would never abandon me. I have to... I must find her…” She began to get up.

“I’m here, Gabrielle.” The familiar voice was music to the bard’s ears, and she visibly relaxed. She did not notice the perplexed looks that painted the faces of her saviors.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” Gabrielle said to the man and the woman, “I really would have been okay. Here,” she reached into her pouch and pulled out a dinar, “for your troubles. I really must be going.”

As she again moved to stand, the woman pushed her back onto the bed, “You need to rest,” she insisted, “You are still so weak.”

“It’s just a wound,” said Gabrielle, “I have survived worse.”

“No,” said the man, “You should certainly be dead.”

“And there’s something else,” the woman said, “When I was dressing your wound. The mark on your back… where did it come from?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Gabrielle hastily, “I’m fine. Let me go.”

“You are ill,” the man said, “You must regain your strength.”

Gabrielle growled in frustration, “Why does everyone say that I’m ill? I am Greek, and light-skinned even for a Greek at that. I am simply not so sunkissed and tanned as your people. I am not sick!”

“I can see that your eyes are red from some grief and lack of rest, and your gaze is wild and unfocused,” the woman said. She forced her cool hand onto Gabrielle’s neck, “Your skin is hot and your heart is beating twice as fast as it should. Whatever your affliction, it runs much deeper than this wound.”

As Gabrielle swung her feet over the side of the bed to leave, the woman pushed her back down. Frustrated, Gabrielle shoved her with all her strength into the arms of the man, whose horror matched his wife’s. Standing finally, fighting a momentary dizziness and an angry pain in her shoulder, Gabrielle quickly located her bag that her saviors had surely recovered from the battle. She slung it over her shoulder and headed for the door, but not before locking eyes with a teenaged girl who was hanging clothes to dry. Gabrielle imagined the girl dropping her menial task and begging,  _ ‘Please take me with you! I love to study geography and maps. Oh, I want so much to be like you.’ _

But the girl only watched her, warily, and with that pity in her eyes that seemed to say,  _ Poor girl, I wonder what happened to her? _

Outside again, the bright sun assaulting Gabrielle’s tired eyes, she asked, “Can you believe them? All these years and everyone still treats me like a helpless kid!”

“Where are you going?” Xena asked.

“I need to get out of this place. In Greece they know me, who I am -- they know who we are… We will be respected there.”

“Are you ready to return?” Xena asked.

“Yes…” said Gabrielle, “I have gotten what I came here for.”

“Gabrielle…” Xena cautioned.

“No, Xena. I don’t wanna hear it.” She pulled a delicate scroll from her bag, “It really wasn’t too hard to find, I am surprised. But now it is a matter of reading it.” She squinted at the neat but unfamiliar characters, “I’ve asked around but no one can seem to translate this language. I don’t know what to do, but I will go to the Amazons until I can think of something.”

“Rest there for a while,” said Xena, “You have a place there, a home. Clear your head.”

Gabrielle nodded absently.

As the ship to Greece set sail, Gabrielle felt a sudden anxiety. She clutched the side of the boat in a panic.  _ Xena is dead, _ she thought, as though she hadn’t realized it before that moment,  _ I am alone. I am lost. _

She leaned over and vomited into the waves below, her seasickness getting the best of her. She groaned as the strain and movement upset her wound.

“Use the pressure points I showed you,” Xena cooed in her ear, brushing her hair back.

Relaxation washed over Gabrielle like the waves below. What had she been thinking about a moment ago? It didn’t matter, Xena was here.

Then seasickness overtook Gabrielle again. Xena noticed she was coughing up more bile and spit than undigested food.

“Gabrielle, are you eating?”

“Uh-huh,” she replied vacantly, pressing the spot on her wrist that somehow calmed her nausea.

“No you aren’t. Gabrielle, don’t lie to me.” Xena said, “I can see how thin you are.”

“You too, now? Stop babying me, Xena. I know what I’m doing.”

“You need to take care of yourself, Gabrielle. You need to eat, and make sure you are getting enough sleep. You haven’t been thinking clearly.”

Gabrielle felt hot and anxious again as she turned to face Xena, “How am I supposed to eat knowing you are gone? How can I sleep when every time I close my eyes I see you being dragged away from me?” Her voice had raised to a hysterical shout, “My own grief is eating me alive, Xena, and there is nothing I can do about it!” She peered at the scroll poking out of her bag. “Except one thing,” she corrected, softer.

When she looked up, Xena was gone, and she became aware of the other people on the boat, who were eyeing her warily, pitying her but also fearing what she might do in her apparent insanity.

Exhausted and confused, she slid down to the creaky floor and hugged her knees, willing the spectators to look away.


	3. The Amazons

Finally in Greece again and relishing the familiar landscape, Gabrielle reunited with Argo II, who had remained at a stable near the harbour. Mounting the steed, she set off towards the lands of her Amazon sisters.

As she led her horse on foot through the forest, she was wary that she might not be recognized and viewed as an intruder. But, sure enough, she heard a call of “It’s Gabrielle!” as a trio of young Amazons descended from the trees.

“Gabrielle—” One girl blushed and shook her head, “My Queen... your highness… My apologies, it’s just—”

“It’s okay, Aridike. I’m not your Queen, not anymore. That’s... Who is the Queen now?”

“It’s, well…” Aridike cleared her throat, “Neomache, would you run ahead and notify the guard? We will escort Queen Gabrielle to the village.”

Neomache nodded and took off quickly into the woods.

“We held a trial, of course, because of how she had betrayed us, and you, but Varia... she really has changed. And you saw that, after the battle, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Aridike. I am happy to call Varia a friend of mine and a friend of the Amazons. If I did not believe in the ability of people to change, well, that would go against everything I have ever stood for.”

“Varia is leading us again,” said Aridike, “I have never seen the tribe so prosperous. Well, I’m sure in your day—”

“Every people has its good times and its bad, Aridike. For me it was only two years ago, but truly it was before you were born, another of my own lifetimes that I first came to the Amazons, and then I saw so much life and wealth, but also the brinks of wars.”

“Yes, exactly.” Aridike nodded, “And I think, considering, Varia is doing great. I had never imagined she could be so thoughtful and strategic, and she cares just as much for our sick and elderly as she does for battle.”

Gabrielle’s response was a vague grunt of approval. There was a small silence.

“I, um…” the other young Amazon started, “We heard about Xena. We had a funeral here for her, even though she wasn’t technically an Amazon. I’m so sorry, you must be crushed.”

Gabrielle clenched her fists unconsciously, an unexplainable rage suddenly filling her.

“Gabrielle,” Xena cautioned, and she suppressed her emotions.

“But don’t worry,” added Aridike, “you are free, I’m sure, to stay with the Amazons as long as you need to mourn, and gain your strength. You were, after all, our Queen.”

As they approached the city gates, two guards stepped aside with a bow, and Gabrielle was immediately delighted to find that the village seemed to be returning to something resembling its former glory.

She was taken to the Queen’s hut, the one, she recalled, that once during her visits belonged to her.

“Gabrielle,” Varia greeted as Aridike and the other Amazon left the hut.

“Varia,” said Gabrielle, “Hi.”

Varia stepped forward, and the two crossed fists in an official gesture, and then, looking into Gabrielle’s sad eyes, Varia shifted into a hug.

“I’m sorry about Xena,” she said.

“I know. “

Stepping back, Varia studied Gabrielle for a moment. “Gabrielle,” she said, “you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Gabrielle joked.

“I mean it,” said Varia, “You look half-dead. You aren’t sleeping much, are you?”

“I’m fine, Varia. You look great. And the village. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you. Every woman has worked so hard to bring this place to where it is, I am proud of all of my sisters.” She paused, a blissfulness painting her face for a moment, “There is a hut across the village for important guests. Of course, fit for the former Queen. Listen, tomorrow the council and I are having a meeting to discuss some matters involving crops and things, I would be honored to have you there.”

Gabrielle nodded absently, “I won’t be here long, Varia, no more than a moon. Probably less, just to rest and figure out my next steps.”

“You may stay as long as you need, Gabrielle,” said Varia. Then she smiled, “But do remember what happened last time if you again find the urge to challenge me with your fists.”

Gabrielle smiled lightly at that.

The guest hut was fine, but mostly it was quiet, which she appreciated most of all.

“Gabrielle,” someone whispered, lips brushing against her ear.

“Xena,” Gabrielle moaned, “Xena, I’ve missed you so much…”

“I love you, Gabrielle.” She let her head fall, leaving a trail of kisses along her blonde companion’s neck and not stopping as she approached Gabrielle’s breasts. Suddenly, she said, “You are my Queen.”

“Mm,” Gabrielle replied, “don’t stop, Xena. Please, I need you.”

“My Queen…”

“Xena,”

“My Queen!” And suddenly, the voice was not Xena’s.

Gabrielle awoke with a start, soaked in sweat and feeling feverish, her eyes meeting those of the young Amazon sent to wake her. She suddenly felt self-conscious and embarrassed, knowing from none other than Xena herself that she tended to speak and fidget in her sleep, she vaguely considered that this innocent young girl had been forced into a very awkward situation.

“Why are you just standing there?” Gabrielle spat, in what some might say was an uncharacteristic lack of self-control, “Did you wake me to gawk?” She bit her lip, remorseful about her own rudeness but not strong enough to apologize.

“You have overslept, my Queen,” said Aridike, continuing to use her former title, “Queen Varia has asked for you in the meeting chambers.”

Gabrielle attended the meeting and was bored beyond words. There were no concerns of any weight brought up and Gabrielle found her mind occupied with thoughts of Xena.

“Gabrielle,” Varia said after the gathering, “are you alright? You seemed so absent.”

“Fine,” said Gabrielle, “I’ve just got things on my mind. Varia, do you know of anyone well-versed in translation?”

Varia raised an eyebrow, “No. I know of those who can change speech from the language of Chin to Greek, or other tongues, but none who are versed in the art in general. Why?”

“Nothing.” Said Gabrielle, “Just curious.”

Days passed, and Gabrielle seemed to be growing more irritable and distant. When spoken to directly at council meetings, she would often have to be called upon twice or three times before she responded, or even shaken lightly by the shoulder until she arose from her stupor.

She dreamed often of Xena, some nightmares and some wonderful fantasies which were in some ways worse when she awoke to her own loneliness.

Xena still visited her, and she took care, at first, only to speak with her in secret lest the other Amazons think her mad, but as the days passed and she began to lose control, reality and fantasy became harder to distinguish.

Gabrielle thought she would take a walk in the forest, and felt a comfort as a hand wrapped around hers.

“Xena,” said Gabrielle, “Have you ever thought about how old trees are?”

“What do you mean?

“I mean, when we are born the forest is here, and it is still here when we die. And then the same for our children, and for their children. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Is this another one of your theories, Gabrielle?” Xena smirked.

“Hear me out, Xena! Trees aren’t like us, are they? The older they get, the stronger they become.”

“Uh-huh…”

“If something can live so long, then why don’t we? I think that nature makes sacrifices. A tree can live forever, but it cannot move. But we can speak and move and love, and that’s what we give up.”

“Okay, I can get that,”

“So, really, we are meant to die.”

“Gabrielle…” Xena cautioned, “Gabrielle, you must go on. For me. Get those thoughts out of your head.”

“Xena!” Gabrielle laughed, “Don’t be so dramatic. It is just a theory. Besides—”

“Queen Gabrielle?”

Gabrielle jumped, and Xena disappeared from her side. She whipped her head around to see Aridike emerging from the woods.

“My Queen, who were you talking to?”

“Talking?” Gabrielle lied, “It must have been the sounds of the forest, Aridike. I was just taking a walk.”

Aridike nodded slowly.

“Come on,” said Gabrielle, “It must be time for dinner. Shall we head back to the village?”

The next day, Gabrielle stopped by the shops to haggle, not because she needed trinkets or because she was strapped for cash, but because the act of haggling brought her a joy she so rarely found these days. And the fleeting satisfaction she felt after successfully purchasing a fine cloth for her sais for a mere dinar had just escaped her when Varia approached her in the square.

“Gabrielle,” she greeted, “how are you?”

“I’m fine, Varia,” said Gabrielle, navigating the small-talk like she was navigating a street in Poteidaia, “and you?”

Varia ignored the question, “Listen, Gabrielle, are you okay?”

“Stop asking me that!” Gabrielle growled, “I’m fine.”

“Perhaps you should see the healer,” said Varia, “You seem so sick. Don’t you see how your hands are shaking?”

“No, Varia. I’m fine. Maybe I am coming down with a cold or something. I appreciate the concern. I really do.”

“Gabrielle,” Varia suddenly became deathly serious, “Aridike told me she saw you in the woods last night, speaking to the trees.”

Gabrielle shook her head, “She was just hearing the wind. I was only taking a walk.”

“She is certain of what she saw, Gabrielle,” Varia answered, “She said she heard you say the name ‘Xena’.”

Gabrielle felt like she was caught in a crime, but also like she was selfishly holding back a wonderful truth from the world. She flexed her fingers uncomfortably for a moment. “She visits me, sometimes,” Gabrielle admitted softly

“Gabrielle,” Varia said, caution in her eyes, “You know that Xena is dead.”

“Death means nothing for us,” said Gabrielle, “She is with me, even in death.”

“With what you two have gone through,” said Varia, “I might believe that she is truly visiting you somehow, but you are clearly so ill; you have been so indifferent, and I see a pain and terror always in your eyes. I have seen it happen to my sisters who have lost their loves or seen horrors in battle. You aren’t in your right mind.”

“You don’t know anything, Varia.”

“Gabrielle, I need you to understand that the Xena you are seeing isn’t real. She is in your mind.”

“Shut up!” cried Gabrielle, something vile seeming to fill her veins, “I hate you, Varia. You tried to have me killed, why should I trust you? You are worried that I will usurp your power, so you are trying to paint me as insane!”

With that, Gabrielle marched off into the woods.

“Gabrielle,” said Xena’s calming voice.

“Xena,” Gabrielle frantically breathed, “Xena, tell me you are real.”

“Gabrielle, I—”

“I’m not crazy, am I? I can’t be. I remember, when the furies were inside my head whispering to kill Eve… that wasn’t like this. No, that was confusion and insanity. This is all so clear. That was full of evil and hate, but this is wonderful, seeing you.”

“I’m here for you, Gabrielle,” Xena soothed.

It was exactly what Gabrielle wanted to hear. “I know,” she said, glancing up at a tree branch, “I will climb that tree, and I will leap from the branch making no attempt to catch myself. I can feel you, I can touch you. Since you are real, you will catch me.”

“Gabrielle—”

Gabrielle shook her head and stopped listening, quickly scaling the tall tree, a skill the Amazons had taught her.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath. It’s not that she was suicidal, she thought, not anymore. Leaping from a tree into her companion’s waiting arms—what on Earth was suicidal about that? And so she jumped, accelerating quickly towards Xena, whose face seemed to combine fear and stoicism as only Xena's could.


	4. The Temple of Tongues

Gabrielle awoke in the healer’s hut, a dull pain in the front of her head. She was mildly annoyed, and even more mildly amused that after all these years she was still waking up injured in strange cots, though normally it was Xena who had healed her and not the old woman before her now, who Gabrielle thought in her old age rather resembled a raisin.

“What happened?” Gabrielle asked, “My head feels like it was hit with a wagon.”

“It looks like,” said the old healer, “you fell from a tree. One of the youths found you bleeding from the skull in the woods. You’ll be fine, though. A few days’ rest is all you need.”

Varia came into the hut, that new queenliness about her, with Gabrielle’s bag of scrolls in her hand, “I thought you might want these to keep you busy. How are you feeling?”

“Kinda like back when you beat me up.” Gabrielle smiled.

Varia turned to the healer, “Would you leave us for a moment?”

The wrinkled woman, whom Gabrielle had just realized she’d forgotten to thank for her healing, nodded and exited swiftly.

“Gabrielle,” said Varia, sitting beside the bed, “what happened in the woods today?”

Gabrielle sighed, “I…” she thought back, “Xena was supposed to catch me.”

“She’s not real, Gabrielle,” said Varia, “It’s all in your head.”

Gabrielle winced at the words, and her gaze dropped to her lap.

“You must live your life, Gabrielle,” said Varia, “Don’t do these rash things. I have seen so much death here. Live, Gabrielle. And once the time comes you will meet Xena again in Elysium.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Gabrielle muttered.

“Living?”

“Meeting Xena,” Gabrielle corrected, “I filled my satchel full of stones and walked into the Nile. I drank poison and I leapt from great cliffs. But I always awaken. I am cursed.”

“That doesn’t sound like a curse.”

“She said it was a gift,” said Gabrielle, “She lied, though.”

“Xena?”

“No, no. It was Akemi. A girl—a ghost. She gave me this,” She peeled her tunic off her shoulder, showing Varia the intricate dragon on her back, which she normally took such care to keep hidden from the eyes of others, “She said it was a gift, to protect me. But it keeps me from her—from Xena. I think that she did it on purpose, so that she may have Xena all to herself.”

“I think you are ascribing bad intentions to someone who may have none,” Varia said, unsure who Akemi was but deciding the detail was unimportant, “I once did that a lot.”

“I feel it in my heart,” said Gabrielle, “And Xena is with me. I feel that, too. No one can keep me from Xena. Not Akemi, and not Death.”

“She is dead, Gabrielle. Don’t lose yourself in fantasy.”

There was a very long silence, and then Gabrielle spoke softly. “When I was a girl,” she said, “I thought that I could tell the future. I called it the ‘gift of prophecy’.”

Varia met her gaze with an uncertain nod.

“My sister, Lila, called me crazy. My predictions were never right. I once predicted a flood when we’d had a drought, but I told her that what mattered was that I knew something strange would happen with the rain.” She took a deep breath, “No matter how much evidence there was against it, I still always believed I had this made-up ability. I think I even still do, sometimes, in the back of my mind.”

“Gabrielle-”

“Xena always liked how optimistic I was, always looking at the brighter side of things and seeing the good in people despite all we’d been through. But that was never it. I wasn’t optimistic, I was delusional.”

“You’ve been through so much, and you’ve lost the person you love most in the world not even a year ago,” said Varia, “You will get through it. Stay here a while, we will help you.”

Gabrielle nodded slowly, but she disagreed. No, she would never get through it, which was why she needed more than ever to finish her quest.

The old healer returned and Varia nodded to her, “Thank you, Thais.”

“Yes, my Queen,” said the healer with a small bow.

Varia left and Gabrielle sat still, thinking for a moment. She reached into her bag and pulled out the scroll that she’d found in Egypt, staring at the impossible characters, trying to identify even one word.

“I have never seen such a language in my life,” said Thais as she caught a glimpse of the scroll, “I once knew a woman who simply  _ loved _ to read different tongues, there wasn’t one she could not understand.”

“Yeah?” said Gabrielle, her interest piqued.

“Oh, yes,” said the old woman, becoming lost in a memory, “It is said that Hermes himself fell in love with her and taught her every language Man has ever spoken.”

“Where might I find this woman?” Gabrielle pressed, her heart suddenly racing.

“Her name is Euphemia, she is a priestess at a temple in Nicopolis.” She arched a clinical eyebrow at Gabrielle, “You cannot go there, not right now. You must rest.”

“Uh-huh.”

The advice went unheeded, of course, and that night, when the village was asleep besides the women guarding the perimeter, Gabrielle silently left her hut and retrieved Argo II from the stable.

“Queen Gabrielle?” Aridike squinted through the darkness as she guarded the entrance to the city, “Gabrielle, you should be resting.” 

Gabrielle did notice that the girl had dropped the “Queen” from her title since she’d seen her in the woods. She didn’t mind, of course, but she certainly did notice. “Shh, Aridike,” said Gabrielle, “I’m alright, really. Don’t try to stop me, you know I could subdue you.”

Aridike thought for a moment and then, shame in her features, nodded.

“Thank you for all you have done for me, and for your concern, Aridike. Take care.”

And Gabrielle rode off into the night, headed for Nicopolis.

It was a long journey, and she was pleased to finally arrive. She found herself feeling incredibly small in light of the temple’s vastness.

“It is beautiful,” Xena remarked, beside her again.

Gabrielle did not answer, but took a deep breath as she pushed open the heavy doors.

The hall seemed empty, but Gabrielle could hear the unmistakable rhythm of a quill on parchment. She squinted, and at the end of the hall could see a small old woman, eyes closed but writing away as though she were playing an instrument.

“Hello?” said Gabrielle, clearing her throat.

The woman turned towards Gabrielle, but to the bard it seemed like she gazed right through her, “Who are you?”

“My name is Gabrielle of Potadeia,” she thought for a moment, and stood straighter, stronger, intimidated for some reason but not wanting to appear so, “companion of Xena, the Warrior Princess, and Queen of the Amazons.”

If the woman at all recognized her titles, she did not show it. “That is your name, and your title,” said the woman, “but who are you? What is it you do?”

“I am…—” _A warrior,_ she thought, “I am a bard.”

“Oh, another? You would not believe how many bards come to me, seeking to change their stories so that they may be told across the world. Oh, how dull their stories all are!”

“I have something more interesting,” Gabrielle insisted, taking out her scoll, “I have this scroll, but I cannot read the letters, and I thought—”

“My girl, are you dense?” The woman scoffed. “I am blind! I cannot translate that for you. Hermes taught me every language, and Zeus blinded me so that I would not become too strong. I am sorry to say that I can only translate into other tongues what you can read aloud to me.”

“It’s okay, Gabrielle,” Xena said, “There’s always another way.”

“There’s got to be another way,” said Gabrielle, panic rising again in her stomach, “Something you can do, anything.”

“Don’t get your tunic in a twist,” said the old woman, “I do have a potion that will briefly give you the ability that I have, to understand other tongues, but only for a few moments. I do warn you, though, it is known to drive people insane.”

Gabrielle did not hesitate, “Give it to me, please,” she begged, “I can handle it.”

After a moment of quiet contemplation, the woman nodded and went to a shelf full of bottles and pouches. She felt around until she located a bottle full of a brown liquid. She procured a small cup from nearby it and reached for a blank scroll, all of which she passed to Gabrielle.

“Don’t drink more than the cup,” she passed her quill to Gabrielle, “You may forget what you read. I would write it down.”

Forget? Gabrielle scoffed, she wasn’t an idiot. But she trusted this woman, and after pouring her cup full of the potion, she gripped the quill in her right hand and brought the liquid to her lips with her left. Bracing herself, she drank.


	5. The Olympians

Gabrielle was suddenly nauseatingly aware of her own heartbeat. The wind outside seemed to be whispering to her, and she found herself staring at the wall, trying to interpret the cracks that lined it.

“Gabrielle,” Xena said, and her own name seemed to hold more meaning than it ever had, “The scroll.”

The scroll? She glanced at the old woman, now becoming entranced with the wrinkles on her face that seemed to spell out words and paint pictures, seeming then to shift before Gabrielle’s very eyes.

“Do not dawdle, girl,” the woman said, “the effects of the potion are very brief.”

Potion? She looked down at the scroll beneath her and was not surprised to see that she could read it perfectly. In fact, she wondered how she had not been able to understand its contents earlier, as it felt as though she had been reading the language her whole life. She looked at the quill in her hand and remembered her duty. She began translating the text into her native Greek, which seemed so dull and familiar compared to what her mind now held within it.

She wrote and read furiously, translating the phrases with little effort, her talent for language and words coming in handy even now. As she neared the end of the passage, however, she shook her head and squinted as the shapes on the parchment began to stop making sense.

She grunted in frustration as dread rose in her chest. She had not completed her translation. She glanced at the bottle of potion that still sat before her, still not quite out of her potion-induced trance.

Frantically, she reached for the bottle. “No, no, no,” she mumbled, “I'm not done yet.”

She lifted the glass bottle in her shaky hands, but somehow the woman knew what she was up to.

“That potion kills the mind, girl,” she said, “Any more and you will surely die, or spend your life hearing voices and seeing spirits who are not there.”

_Isn't that how I already live?_ Gabrielle's mind sent forth what moons of denial fought constantly to push back, and she realized that she could not only understand language, but she could understand everything. Suddenly, she understood that she was spiralling into madness, and she would not reunite with her love until she lost her own life, and even then would be trapped for eternity in an afterlife without Xena. She understood that she was nothing without Xena, and she was, presently, without Xena. The shock of the thought caused the bottle to slip from her weak grasp and shatter on her scrolls.

She watched, entranced, as the dark liquid spilled over each piece of parchment, dripping down the folds. Frantically, she tried to salvage the scrolls, wiping the liquid away with her hands, but only smudging the lettering and adding her own blood to the concoction of ink and potion as she cut her fingers on the broken glass.

An odd sense of calm washed over her as she came down from the supernatural high. Her head began to ache, exhaustion penetrating her body. She shut her tired eyes for a long moment, which though it felt like an eternity was not long enough.

She raised her eyes slowly, her mind fuzzy. She glanced at the original scroll again, which she could read no better than she had been able to when she’d first recovered it and was now drenched in liquid. She tried to recall its contents and found to her confusion that she had no memory of what she'd read just a moment ago.

She turned to the new scroll, also wet but the damage was less. It seemed foreign to her.

“This is my hand?” She asked, her actions during her trance escaping her by the second.

The old woman grunted, feeling for a cloth to clean the mess, “Unless someone else is here. This mess is your hand, too. You could help clean it up.”

Gabrielle blinked and reached for a cloth folded on a table, and as she turned her head found Xena's concerned gaze. Xena glanced down and gently brushed her hand over Gabrielle's, and the bard was perplexed and surprised to find her palms covered in small cuts.

Suddenly, Gabrielle gasped as she found within herself the reason for her earlier panic. “I didn’t finish.”

She picked up her scroll, letting the remaining liquid drip off of it. 

“I have discovered by my own trials the secret that is to return a man to this realm from any afterlife,” she read, 

“He must acquire, first, the ashes of his fallen’s body,” Gabrielle nodded to herself, knowing she still kept Xena’s ashes in an urn in her saddlebag, “and an item of great significance to his fallen, that may bear connection to him still.” Gabrielle’s hand fell to Xena’s chakram,

“He must, and it is for this step that many do not succeed, find in his possession a piece of a God, be it a hair or a nail. And, further, not just any God, not a minor God of some river, or a Goddess that spends her days among men, but a God with great power within him.” 

_An Olympian,_ thought Gabrielle,

“Next, he must find and gather these herbs, and combine them in perfect proportions with the piece of the God. Do not be fooled; that this step may seem comparatively simple is a trick, for to first find these plants, that are so rare and unknown, is a trial itself, and then to combine them appropriately requires knowledge of forbidden arts that few men possess. But there are those scattered throughout the Earth who are practiced in dark magicks and, should a man win their favors, may aid him in this task.” What followed was a list of plants and herbs, most of which Gabrielle had never heard of.

“He must bring the mixture, then, to the place of his fallen’s birth, and reciting these words in his chosen tongue:

‘I, with a piece of mortal, and a piece of divinity, connected by the thread of ancient magicks, do command that my fallen be brought forth from the realm of the Dead, to be amongst the living again until that time comes when he is truly meant to die.’

He must here slather the item so sacred to his fallen in the divine mixture, and allowing the blood to fall atop it must slay a sacrifice, one that is a part of the fallen, connected by…—”

_By blood…_ the sentence completed itself in Gabrielle's mind, the translation having been cut short. An image of Eve made its way behind her eyes.

She cleaned the mess and paid the woman by Gabrielle’s own insistence for her help. Leaving the temple, she mounted Argo II and rode into the woods.

When she came to a clearing far from any civilization, Gabrielle climbed down from her steed and called, “Aphrodite!”

Nothing. She tried again, “Aphrodite!”

She was growing impatient, “Ares?”

She cleared her throat, “Ares, get your butt over here!”

And suddenly, in two bursts of divine smoke, both Olympians stood before Gabrielle.

“What do you want, Gabrielle?” asked Ares.

“Oh, honey,” said Aphrodite, giving Gabrielle a hug, “Oh, you must be so depressed since Xena. I can feel all your love, with no place to put it.” She broke the embrace, “Oh, Gabby, are you eating? You look _way_ too thin, and those bags under your eyes are _totally_ not cute.”

“I need your help. Well, one of you,” said Gabrielle.

“Of course!” Said Aphrodite.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Said Ares, “I have been bored out of my mind since the ‘Twilight of the Gods’ shenanigans, I gotta say I’d like to help. I love when people owe me favors.”

“It really isn’t much,” said Gabrielle, “I just need a piece of hair.”

“I just spent _hours_ doing it!” complained Aphrodite, “But anything for you, Gabs.”

“Wait,” said Ares, “Is this… for Xena?”

“Yes,” admitted Gabrielle, “I plan to bring her back to life.”

“Oh, Gabby,” said Aphrodite, “You really shouldn't mess with things like that. All kindsa ickies can come out of that resurrection stuff…”

Ares yanked out a lock of his hair, “Take mine,” he insisted, “I want to be the one to bring Xena back to this earth. Oh, she would owe me bigtime,”

“Wait, now hold on a minute,” said Aphrodite, “I want to be the one to help Gabrielle, she is my best friend and I actually like her.”

“Well I hate her,” said Ares, “and that has to count for something. Bring Xena back with _her_ and she’ll be soft and lovey-dovey. You want her to keep on saving the world and fighting bad guys, you want the God of War inside her.”

“Oh Gabby,” said Aphrodite, “Xena already has so much love for you in her. I know how badly you want that love to shine.”

“That’s your choice,” said Xena, “bring me forth out of love or war.”

Gabrielle was inclined to choose love, for Aphrodite was a great friend and Gabrielle herself had always been inclined to that path. But she knew that Xena had war in her blood, and she remembered with sadness when Xena had lost that part of her following their crucifixions.

“I will use both,” Gabrielle decided, “because Xena is a warrior, but needs her love to keep her on the path of good.”

She opened a small pouch, and into it each Olympian dropped a lock of hair.

“Thank you,” said Gabrielle.

“Good luck, sweetie,” said Aphrodite, “And please take care of yourself.”

“Bring Xena back, Gabrielle,” Ares said, a pleading fragility in his eyes.

And with that, the two divinities disappeared in puffs of smoke.

“Where to next?” asked Xena as Gabrielle prepared again to mount her steed.

“The scroll lists herbs the ritual requires. I haven’t heard of many of them, and I need someone practiced in magic to combine them and enchant them.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Ulysses once mentioned a witch on an island called Aeaea,” said Gabrielle, “I will travel there. She will have everything I need.”


End file.
